“Come to think of it, Sheffil, you really showed up empty-handed, huh?”
Walking along a street as silent as a graveyard, the only sound echoing around them was the rhythm of their own footsteps.
Perhaps out of boredom, Dorothy glanced at Sheffil and spoke lazily.
“What should I have brought?”
“Your weapons, gear, stuff like that… I mean, didn’t you learn all that swordplay and marksmanship just so you could use all kinds of weapons?”
“And now? No armor, no sword, no gun.”
“You really don’t think much of the enemy we’re about to face, do you?”
As a mage who frequently went on missions with Jianle, Dorothy had encountered more than her fair share of life-threatening situations.
The instinct to stay on high alert at the first sign of danger had become second nature, and making thorough preparations before a battle was just basic professionalism.
Much like how a seasoned veteran couldn’t understand a carefree rookie, Dorothy found Sheffil’s attitude baffling.
Did he have a death wish?
“No choice. That’s what being broke looks like.”
The truth was, he simply hadn’t found anything he liked.
Sheffil shot Dorothy a side-eye.
“Besides, even if I had anything, I couldn’t bring it. Not everyone has a storage crest like you do.”
Dorothy’s witch emblem was far from ordinary.
Just the spatial magic used to carve its phase pocket ranked at an incredible sixth-tier.
Tearing open phase rifts was simple enough for a spatial magic specialist, but creating a stable pocket dimension that could safely store physical objects over time—that required a multidisciplinary team, not just one mage.
Even a tiny one-meter space of storage required multiple tier-six mages to open rifts, stabilize them, and inscribe self-sustaining mana-conversion runes.
It was a complicated, costly endeavor.
Artifacts of that caliber were practically never sold on the open market.
You might see a few storage rings at auction or on the black market, but they would fetch astronomical prices.
And even buying one was only the beginning—maintaining the runes was another issue entirely.
Unless you knew all the necessary magic yourself, you’d be paying through the nose at a specialized shop just for upkeep.
Fortunately, these heirloom-tier storage rings only needed maintenance every ten years or so to function properly.
“See, I keep telling you—stop wasting all your vacations hanging out with those sketchy friends of yours. Would it kill you to join me and Jianle on missions instead?”
“I literally went out of my way to create chances for you two to be alone together, and this is how you thank me? Ungrateful.”
“What do you mean you created them? I worked hard for those chances myself.”
“Ha? If I hadn’t told you Jianle kept running off to the West District, would you have figured out she wanted to go on missions?”
“Oho? Watching little Jianle so closely… don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on her?”
Dorothy’s tone shifted, her gaze sharpening in an instant.
“Also, you still haven’t told me what exactly happened with Tianxia this morning.”
She tilted her head, taking on the posture of an interrogator.
It was no coincidence she had invited Sheffil out alone today.
Aside from investigating yesterday’s strange character, she had a personal agenda: to interrogate Sheffil thoroughly.
Dorothy’s mom instincts didn’t approve of Sheffil’s recent social activities.
Not only had things suddenly gotten tense between him and Jianle, but two new players—Bluebell and Tianxia—had entered the picture.
They’d started secretly associating with Sheffil behind Dorothy’s back.
Sure, Tianxia might just be messing with him for fun…
But that little pink-haired junior, Bluebell—claiming she admired Dorothy while sneaking around to get close to Sheffil?
Please.
As a self-proclaimed love expert and future harem queen, Dorothy could see through that girl’s act in a heartbeat.
Yes, Bluebell genuinely admired her, but during that time she asked Sheffil to help her get closer to Dorothy, the girl had clearly noticed Sheffil’s selfless nature—how he would throw his all into helping anyone connected to Dorothy.
Bluebell, lacking self-confidence all her life, had probably never received such sincere attention from a guy like Sheffil.
Honestly, who wouldn’t fall for that?
Which is why Dorothy had decisively taken Bluebell in as her apprentice—not just to keep an eye on her, but to teach her a hard truth: being affectionate was fine, but treating Dorothy like a stepping stone?
Dream on.
Plenty of girls over the years had tried to sneak around and get close to Sheffil, only to be intercepted by her.
Did Bluebell really think she, a junior nobody, could score big without anyone noticing?
But before any of that, Dorothy needed to find out where Sheffil really stood with those two.
“What’s there to explain?”
Sheffil frowned, puzzled by her probing.
“She just wanted help finding you, couldn’t, then ran into me, so I helped her.”
…Though in truth, he’d kind of been forced into it.
“Hah?”
Dorothy let out a dry laugh.
“That’s really all there was to it?”
“What else would it be? Don’t believe me, go ask her yourself.”
Sheffil furrowed his brow and stomped forward, clearly hoping to drop the subject.
Thud!
In his haste, he didn’t notice what was ahead and bumped into something.
“Ah, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was—” Sheffil started apologizing reflexively, but paused mid-sentence.
Wait a second… wasn’t this place deserted?
When he looked up, a pitch-black statue stood ominously in front of them, as if it had materialized from thin air.
Twin greatswords in its hands glinted with a chilling, deadly light.
And in the very next moment—before either of them could react—the statue’s sword came crashing down at Sheffil with ruthless force!